A Second Chance
by Luna the Moonmonster
Summary: Post OotP. What happens when Harry is killed before he can destroy Voldemort? Sometimes a sense of responsibility doesn't leave us, even beyond the grave. Harry's back, and this time, he'll finish the job.
1. Visiting Hermione

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J K Rowling and the Powers That Be.

Summary: 6th year fic – post OotP. What happens when a terrible accident takes away the hope of the wizarding world? With Harry Potter out of the picture, Voldemort has a free reign. But a twist of fate gives Harry a second chance to fulfill his destiny and say goodbye to those he left behind.

__

A Second Chance

Chapter One – Visiting Hermione

As Harry set down his quill and read over the complicated essay he had been writing, he let out a sigh of frustration. Ever since the start of the summer, he had been locked in his tiny room in Privet Drive with nothing to do except complete his summer homework. After six whole weeks, he still hadn't finished it. Charms had been easy, as had Transfiguration, but Potions had him stumped. He didn't even know why he was bothering with it. After all, what were the chances he had passed his Potions OWL with an 'O'? Snape wouldn't accept anything less for his NEWT class, and Harry knew he would never make an exception for the 'Famous Harry Potter', even if he _did_ want to be an Auror. After Harry had violated his Potions Master's pensieve, the man had been even colder to the boy.

Over the course of the summer, Harry himself had become increasingly bitter. Even six weeks on, the pain of what he had dubbed 'the Department of Mysteries incident' hadn't dissipated at all. The loss of Sirius left a gaping hole in his soul, and he didn't know how he would even get past it. When he wasn't near tears, he felt a raging anger within himself. Anger at the world, for conspiring against him. Anger at Dumbledore for keeping him in the dark for so long about so many things. Anger at Voldemort for existing. Anger at himself for causing it all to happen…

It was all becoming a little too much for Harry to handle. He had had too much pressure on him for too long, and all he wanted now was for it to be over. He had spent as much time as he could this summer practicing his occlumency and studying his schoolbooks. Granted being locked in his room left him with little else to do, but still he was making an effort. He was nowhere near good enough to destroy the self proclaimed Dark Lord, but he was determined not to make it drag on for too much longer. He wanted his life back. He wanted to be free to make his own decisions and mistakes without worrying about what impact it would have on the wizarding world as a whole.

Putting his incomplete Potions essay away, Harry flopped down on his bed with a sigh. He was bored. Very bored. The Dursleys had ignored him ever since he arrived back at Privet Drive, and despite the warnings from Moody and Lupin, they hadn't made an extra effort to make his stay comfortable. He was let out of his room three times a day to use the bathroom, and his meals were all shoved through the cat flap in the bottom of his door. Every two days, Harry was expected to send a letter to his 'freak friends', telling them he was fine and being treated well. Harry readily agreed to this condition. While he wasn't having the best summer ever, he was at least being fed, and being locked in his room meant that he didn't have to do any chores.

Knowing he wouldn't get any more done that night, Harry drifted into a restless sleep, plagued by dreams of luminous scarlet eyes and a black vale.

The next morning, Harry's slumber was disturbed by a loud banging on his door. As he slowly opened his eyes, blinking them rapidly in an effort to clear the fuzziness from his brain, he made out the irate voice of his Uncle yelling at him.

" Boy! Get your lazy behind out of that bed. I need to talk to you! Are you listening to me? I mean NOW!"

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Harry rolled out of his bed and onto the floor with a loud thump. Satisfied that his nephew was up, Vernon unlocked the padlocks on the outside of Harry's door and made his way back downstairs. The boy in question groaned when he spotted the time on his clock. Eight o'clock. Reluctantly, he pulled his crumpled clothes on and headed for the bathroom. Ten minutes later, he entered the living room and stood to one side, waiting to be acknowledged. After a few minutes, Vernon turned his beady glare on his nephew and gestured to a rickety stool in the corner of the room.

" Sit!" he demanded, waiting for Harry to comply before continuing.

" We need you to write to those freak friends of yours," he said with a sneer.

" Why, Uncle Vernon," Harry asked, confused. Normally, his family wouldn't mention his friends unless they absolutely had to.

" We need you out of this house for the rest of the summer. You need to tell them to collect you."

" Why do you need me to leave?" Harry asked, alarmed. He had been told that he would have to spend the holidays with the Dursleys, even if he wanted to leave. He didn't know if Dumbledore would agree for him to leave Privet Drive two weeks early.

" Your Aunt Marge is ill," Vernon told him, " We're going to visit her. After what happened the last time you saw her, we don't want you to come with us. You'd probably finish her off with some of your hocus pocus. You'll have to find somewhere else to go."

" I can't leave!" Harry protested, " Dumbledore…"

" I don't care what that crackpot said!" Vernon growled, his face turning an interesting shade of magenta, " You're going, whether you like it or not."

Harry remained silent; knowing there was nothing he could do to change his uncle's mind. He was one of the most stubborn people Harry knew.

" Alright," he conceded, finally, " I'll ask them."

" Good. Now, back to your room, you're cluttering the place up."

Harry dragged himself to his feet and headed back to his room, wondering what he was going to do. If he wasn't allowed to go to the Weasley's or Grimmauld Place, he didn't know what he would do.

When he got to his room, he pulled out one of his last sheets of parchment and began to write a letter to Ron. He would have written to Dumbledore, but he was still angry with the elderly headmaster. Anything he said to his redheaded friend would probably be passed on to the old coot anyway. Dipping his rather chewed quill into his ink, he began to write.

__

Ron,

I know I only wrote to you yesterday, but something's come up. My Uncle Vernon just told me that I have to leave because the family's going to visit Aunt Marge. Remember what happened the last time I saw her? I don't think she'd appreciate being blown up again. Anyway, is there any chance I could come and stay for the last two weeks? I hate to ask, but I'm getting kicked out either way.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Harry

Two days later, Harry was distracted from his Potions essay once more by the arrival of Hedwig at his bedroom window. After opening his window and letting her in, he eagerly removed the letter she was carrying from her leg. Ripping it open, he scanned the page, his heart sinking as he read.

__

Harry,

Sorry mate, but you can't come here. Mum asked Dumbledore and he reckons you can't come to the wizarding world, because it's too dangerous, what with You-Know-Who running around. I think your best bet would be asking Hermione. Dumbledore says the Muggle world would be best, as You-Know-Who probably wouldn't think to look there. Her house has lots of wards on it as well. McGonagall and Flitwick have spent most of the summer warding the homes of Muggleborns, just in case.

Sorry about that, mate.

Ron

With a sigh, Harry moved his incomplete essay out of the way and pulled out a sheet of lined Muggle paper and a ball point pen, deciding he had best write to Hermione.

Hermione,

I hate to do this, but can I come and stay with you for the last two weeks of the holidays? Please? Uncle Vernon's kicking me out because the Dursleys are going to visit Aunt Marge, who's ill. I already asked Ron, but apparently Dumbledore won't let me stay in the wizarding world. Ron suggested asking you. I hate to ask, but I've got no other choice, unless you can come up with a better idea.

Sorry again,

Harry

As soon as it was finished, he tied it to Hedwig's leg, gave her an owl treat, and sent her on her way. The Dursleys were due to leave the next day, so he hoped Hermione would reply soon, and in the positive.

Much to Harry's relief, he received a reply from Hermione just before he went to bed that night. His heart started to thud rapidly in his chest when he first saw Hedwig soaring in his window. If Hermione said 'no', he didn't know what he would do. As he quickly read the letter, he felt a weight lift from his heart.

__

Harry,

Of course you can visit! I would never see you out on the street, and neither would my parents. We'll be there to pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. See you then!

Hermione

With a grin, Harry threw the letter onto his bed and began the short process of packing his trunk. As he did so, he noted that he needed to go to Diagon Alley in the none too distant future. He was out of parchment, and he needed to pick up his new schoolbooks for the year. He also wanted to get some extra books, especially on Defence Against the Dark Arts and duelling. If he wanted to defeat Voldemort, he would have to be prepared.

The next morning, Harry was once again awoken bright and early by a pounding on his door.

" Boy! I want you out of this room in ten minutes!"

Harry rolled out of bed reluctantly, and pulled a clean set of clothes on. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he headed back to his bedroom and took one final look around before dragging his heavy trunk downstairs and dumping it in the hallway. Sitting down on it, he obediently waited for Hermione and her family to turn up. As soon as Vernon noticed him, he stormed over to his nephew, waving one meaty finger in front of Harry's face.

" Boy, I expect you'll be leaving soon?"

" Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with a sigh.

" Good. How are the freaks getting here? If they think they're coming through the fireplace again, they have another thing coming," the large Muggle spat.

" You don't have to worry about that, Uncle Vernon," Harry told him, " Hermione's parents are dentists."

" Dentists?" Vernon asked in disbelief, " I didn't know you freaks had dentists!"

" Hermione's parents are…normal people. She's the only witch in the family."

" What have I said about mentioning that nonsense in my house?!" the obese man bellowed. Harry winced, but didn't reply. After grumbling a little, Vernon stormed off to the kitchen for his breakfast, leaving Harry sitting alone in the hallway.

Harry sat there for what seemed like hours before he finally heard the doorbell play its usual tacky tune. Leaping to his feet, he yanked the front door open and grinned at the girl on his doorstep.

" Hermione! It's great to see you!" he said as she pulled him into a hug.

" It's great to see you too, Harry. I'm sorry you're getting kicked out."

" I'm not. Anything to get out of Privet Drive quicker. You know how much I hate it here," Harry said sheepishly. Hermione smiled back at him, but her grin began to disappear slowly. Turning around, Harry spotted the Dursleys heading in their direction.

" So, this is your…friend, I take it," Petunia sniffed.

" Yes, Aunt Petunia, this is Hermione. Her parents are dentists," the young wizard replied. He thought it best to mention that, as it may gain Hermione some points with the bony woman. Dentistry, after all, was a nice, normal profession.

" Charmed," Petunia sneered. Harry then noticed Dudley hiding behind his mother, leering rudely at Hermione. With a frown, Harry moved to block his cousin's view of the young woman on his doorstep. After a few moments of awkward silence, Harry picked up the end of his trunk and turned to his friend.

" Shall we go, then?" he asked. Hermione nodded and took the other end of the trunk. As soon as the pair was out of the house, the front door was slammed loudly behind them.

" Charming relatives you have there," Hermione commented.

" Tell me about it," Harry muttered, helping the girl to heave the trunk into the back of the car. He could just imagine the looks on the Dursleys' faces if they were looking through the window and saw that Harry's friend's parents owned an Aston Martin. As soon as he was seated in the back of the car, he greeted Hermione's parents.

" Hello, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, thank you for letting me stay, especially on such short notice."

" It's our pleasure, dear," Mrs. Granger said with a smile, " It'll be nice to get to know one of our Hermione's friends a little better. We're also looking forward to having another magical person in the house. We wanted to know what you could tell us about these wards around our house…"

Harry smiled inwardly at Hermione's mother's interest in the wizarding world. It reminded him of Mr. Weasley and his fascination with all things Muggle. He was looking forward to the last two weeks of the summer holidays, but little did he know the disaster that was to come…


	2. Diagon Alley

__

Chapter Two – Diagon Alley

Harry spent the rest of the trip to Hermione's house chatting to her and her parents. After all, Harry and Hermione had a lot of catching up to do. While Harry had spent most of the summer so far studying, Hermione had been keeping in contact with the Order. She updated him on everything she knew, even though it wasn't a lot. Harry hadn't been allowed to know anything before, as Voldemort could get into his mind at any time. Fortunately, his newfound determination after Sirius' death meant he had almost mastered occlumency. He had practiced several times a day and thought it must be working, as he hadn't had a vision in weeks, ever since the Department of Mysteries incident. After explaining this to a skeptical Hermione, she had reluctantly agreed to fill him in.

As soon as news of the wizarding world had been discussed, Harry brought up the wards around Hermione's house.

" Oh, they're wonderful!" she gushed, " They've been placed around the houses of all Muggleborns. Dumbledore decided we needed more protection, as we don't have any full-grown witches or wizards to protect us. The wards are tied to Hogwarts and the Auror offices. If and Death Eaters penetrate them, the Order and the Aurors arrive. They repel a lot of dark magic as well."

" Sounds great," Harry told her, " A bit like the ones around my house."

They spent the rest of the trip discussing the wards in depth. Hermione's parents chipped in now and again, but were mostly lost by the conversation. The girl herself was surprised to find Harry so knowledgeable about the subject. She had spent years trying to get he and Ron to study more, and it seemed like Harry at least had finally taken her advice.

When they finally arrived in Oxfordshire, where Hermione lived, Harry became more and more excited. He was curious about what sort of house Hermione would have. After all, his only experiences with Muggle houses consisted of the abnormally normal Dursleys and the cat and cabbage infested house of his squib neighbour, Arabella Figg. Neither of these homes were what you would class as the average Muggle household. Hermione's family, however, seemed like good, decent people.

When they finally pulled up outside the house, Harry gaped at the huge building. The Dursleys' house was average and square, uniform in its shape. Hermione's house, though, was sprawling and quite a bit larger, with a huge garden at the back.

" Do you like it?" Hermione asked him.

" It's great. I didn't realise you lived in such a big house!" he told her.

" Well, my parents are both dentists, they earn quite a lot of money."

" I can see that," he replied.

Hermione's father drove the car up the driveway and parked it in the garage. Between them, Harry and Mr. Granger managed to haul his trunk out of the boot of the car and into the house.

" Just leave it at the bottom of the stairs, Harry. We'll take it up later," he told his guest. Harry just nodded in reply.

" Would you like the grand tour?" Mrs. Granger asked him, to which he replied with a nod.

It took them a good half an hour to see the whole house. When Harry was finally settled in his room and left to unpack, he flopped down on the soft springy bed with a smile on his face. The house was great, spacious and clean, but not too large as to be impersonal. With a grin, Harry began to unpack his things, making a list of what he needed to get the next time he went to Diagon Alley.

That night, at dinner, the family and their guest discussed what they would do for the rest of the summer.

" We'll have to go to Diagon Alley of course," Hermione said, excitedly, " There's a new Transfiguration book that's just been published. I really want to get a copy. Some of the mammal to bird spells are revolutionary!"

" Can I borrow it when you've read it?" Harry asked, much to the surprise of the young witch.

" I don't see why not, Harry. Is there anything you need, apart from the years' schoolbooks, that is?"

" Yeah, I need some parchment. Sending letters to the Order every two days made quite a dent, and when you add my summer essays to that, it's left me without any. I had to resort to lined paper."

" There's nothing wrong with lined paper," Mrs. Granger pointed out, " In many respects, it's a lot more practical than parchment. And don't get me started on quills!"

" Mum's a little passionate when it comes to some wizarding things," Hermione explained, " She thinks that Muggles have better solutions to some problems, and I have to say I agree."

" What like?" Harry asked.

" Well, as she says, quills are a good example. I mean, it takes you twice as long to write something than with a Muggle pen, seeing as you have to refill the ink so often. And then there are the ink stains you get on your hands, and inkblots. Biros are so much more practical."

" That's true. Not that I ever get to use biros. Dudley never gets them because he never writes anything. I'm not even sure he can…"

" Don't be silly, of course he can!" Hermione protested, to which Harry simply gave her a pointed look.

The conversation quickly deteriorated into an argument about the merits of Muggle inventions versus their magical counterparts. Eventually they compromised, saying that each had their strong and weak points. By the time dessert was finished, they had the rest of the holidays planned.

A week later found Harry awoken early one morning by a pounding on his door. He jerked awake in shock, expecting the gruff voice of his uncle to come drifting through the door. He was therefore pleasantly surprised when a much softer voice penetrated his fuzzy mind.

" Harry? Are you up? We're leaving in half an hour," Hermione called from the landing.

Harry shook his head to clear it before remembering where they were going. Alton Towers. The best theme park in the country. With an unmanly squeal, he leapt to his feet and grabbed his clothes, heading straight to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later found him sitting at the breakfast table, munching happily on a slice of toast. He had never been to a theme park before. Dudley, of course, had been to loads, but Harry had never been allowed go along. He had always spent the day with Mrs. Figg. Hermione, after hearing this, had immediately decided that he would have to go at least once in his life. After all, most kids went to an amusement park at least once in their lives.

After much discussion, Alton Towers was the most logical choice. It was only two counties away and had some of the best rides in the country. Harry was really looking forward to it.

At nine o'clock, Mr. Granger set the newspaper aside and stood, a smile on his face.

" Everyone ready?" he asked.

" Yes, Sir," Harry replied.

" Right, we'd best set off then. The sooner we get there, the longer we can stay."

With a whoop of joy, the two teenagers ran to the car, and sat themselves down, ready to leave. Today would be a day to remember, they were sure of it.

It had to be the best summer day Harry had ever had. Normally he spent the holidays working in the Dursleys' house, being yelled at by his aunt and uncle, and being beaten up by Dudley. Today, though, for the first time he could remember, he felt like a normal teenager. He could act like a Muggle, and just be himself without the fate of the wizarding world hanging over his head.

As soon as they arrived, Hermione and Harry headed for the most popular of the rides. There were long queues, but they didn't care. They had all day to explore. Harry loved the rollercoasters and the waltzer the best, even though he did end up feeling slightly nauseous after his third candy floss.

By the time the end of the day finally rolled around, neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to leave. However, as is the way of things, all great things must come to an end. In the car on the way back, Hermione asked Harry something that had been on her mind all day.

" Harry, did you have fun? I mean, not everyone likes theme parks."

Harry grinned back at her and pulled her into a tight hug.

" Hermione, it was the best day ever. Thank you," he said. Hermione brightened and hugged back, pleased she had given Harry a good memory.

When Harry woke up on the morning of August 31st, he was filled with a sense of anticipation and joy. The next day, he would be going back to Hogwarts. Despite the pain he suffered every year at the school, he still considered it his home, and there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be. Of course, he enjoyed visiting Hermione, and loved to go to the Burrow, but it was at Hogwarts that he felt the most comfortable. It was home, and it always would be.

Leaping out of his bed, he dressed himself and used the bathroom, before beginning the short process of packing away his belongings into his trunk. The fact that he didn't seem to have that much reminded him that today would be the day he was to go to Diagon Alley to buy his school supplies.

After breakfast, Harry and Hermione spent the morning playing a few games of Trivial Pursuit. Hermione, as anticipated, won every single game.

" You know, I don't know why I bother," Harry said with a groan after his third defeat, " I'm never going to beat you."

" It's not the winning, it's the taking part," Hermione scolded, " Can you think of a better way to fill in the morning?"

" Well, we could play chess, but I'd lose at that as well," Harry admitted with a sigh.

Mrs. Granger calling them for lunch interrupted their fifth game. After their meal, the group piled into the car and headed for London. As parking was a problem, they left the car in the suburbs and took the underground as far as they could. When they finally made it to the _Leaky Cauldron_, Hermione and her family went first, Harry trailing behind them. Harry was a little nervous about reentering the wizarding world. After all, he had had no reason to go to Diagon Alley since the news about Voldemort's return was confirmed, so he didn't know what the general public would do when they saw him. Since the majority of them had believed him to be insane, he was expecting a lot of stares, whispers and comments. Fortunately, he made it through the pub and out into the back yard without incident. Taking out his wand, he tapped the bricks in front of him and opened the gateway into Diagon Alley.

The place was packed. It being the last day before the students were to return to Hogwarts, there were a large number of parents with children milling around. Harry took a deep breath before plunging into the crowd, heading in the direction if Gringott's, the Grangers right behind him. As soon as they entered the white painted building, Harry went over to one goblin to go down to his vault, while the Grangers had their Muggle money changed into galleons.

Just as he was about to enter one of the carts down to the vaults, Harry heard a voice calling out to him.

" Harry! Harry, wait," it said. Looking around, a grin spread across Harry's face as he saw who it was.

" Ginny, it's great to see you," he said, giving the younger girl a hug, " Where are the rest of the family?"

" They're just coming. I heard you were kicked out of the Dursleys'. I'm really sorry you couldn't come and visit us, but it was Dumbledore's decision. Where did you go in the end?"

" Hermione's. She's over at the counter with her parents, changing some money. We were just going to go shopping. Is that why you're here?" he asked. She nodded her head, but before she could reply, Harry was enveloped in another hug. When he was released, he turned around and grinned at Mrs. Weasley, before greeting his best friend.

" Hi Ron."

" Harry mate, how've you been?" the redhead asked.

" Not bad, you?"

" Fine."

They continued their conversation all the way down to the vaults and back again. Once they reached the foyer once more, they met up with Hermione and her parents and headed back outside. As soon as they stepped foot outside the bank, there was an enormous explosion.

" What was _that_?" Ron exclaimed, but his question was answered by the appearance of two dozen Death Eaters in the middle of the crowd, firing spells back and forth.

" Hide!" Arthur Weasley yelled, pushing his wife, the Muggles and the children back towards the bank.

" But we can help," Harry argued.

" You have no experience, Harry dear, leave it to Arthur," Molly said, but the expression on Harry's face hardened.

" I do have experience, and so do Ron, Hermione and Ginny. We can help!"

" Like you did in the Department of Mysteries?!" Molly shouted back. Harry froze, a look of shock and pain on his face, before he scowled at the woman in front of him and turned to the battle. Some people in the crowd were resisting, but they weren't having much effect. The Death Eaters had cornered several families with young children, and when Harry saw three toddlers watch their parents killed in front of them, he saw red. Taking out his wand, he rapidly began cursing black robed figures left, right and centre. Behind him, he could vaguely hear Ron, Ginny and Hermione joining in. After all, they had learned a lot in the DA the year before, and despite their problems in the Department of Mysteries, they were doing well. Before they knew it, several members of the Order of the Phoenix had apparated in. Harry was relieved, as he had been backed up against one of the walls of Gringott's bank, four death Eaters closing in on him.

" Harry!" he heard, and looked up to see Remus Lupin running in his direction. The distraction, however, proved to be a great mistake.

" Reducto!"

Harry turned back to one of the Death Eaters at the sound of the spell, his eyes widening as it sped towards him. With reflexes gained from years of playing quidditch, Harry leapt to one side, rolling onto the floor. The destructive spell hit the wall right where he had been standing. Time seemed to slow for the young wizard. In the background he could see Remus and Tonks running towards him. His friends had also turned to look, dawning expressions of horror appearing on their faces. Above him, Harry could see the wall of Gringott's explode and collapse, tonnes of rock falling in his direction. The last he knew was the sound of several loud screams and an excruciating pain, before his final breath left his lungs and the world turned to darkness.


	3. The Land of Mist

__

Chapter Three – The Land of Mist

The feeling of nothingness lasted for what seemed like an eternity. A great void was all around him, colourless, odourless, intangible. He seemed to float through the empty space between worlds, with little idea of where he was or where he was going. Time had no meaning.

He was therefore shocked when he felt an intense pulling sensation, and the pitch darkness around him began to lighten. He hadn't realised how much he had missed the light until the area around him began to turn a pale grey, and he could once again see the landscape. Not that there was much to see, of course. The ground below him seemed to materialise from nowhere, and as Harry rested his feet on it and gravity seemed to reassert itself, he could tell that the substance holding him up was little more than mist.

Curious, Harry knelt down and touched the ground; amazed and a little disconcerted when with a little pressure his hand went straight through it.

" That's not right," he muttered to himself with a frown.

Standing up, he looked around at the bleak landscape. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but the eerie light casting a grey shadow over the whole place. A thin wispy mist hovered just above the ground, rising higher in places like ethereal tornadoes.

When Harry had finally taken in his surroundings, he started to become more than a little concerned. After all, he didn't know where he was and could see no way of escaping the strange place. Deciding to take a walk to see where he ended up, Harry picked a direction and started making his way across the mist, looking intently around himself every few minutes, looking for any signs of life.

His pondering about finding other people brought him to an abrupt halt when he realised where his train of thought was heading.

Signs of life.

Life.

The last thing he could remember before the void was intense pain and a feeling of floating. Before that was a little blurred. Placing his hands on his head, he thought as hard as he could, trying to sort out the jumble of images. With a start, he realised that he had been hit by falling rocks. He vaguely remembered seeing Remus calling out to him, looks of horror on people's faces. The falling rocks. The pain. The void.

" No," he whispered, tears springing into his eyes, " NO! NO! NO!"

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. The attack, the curses, the expressions of shock he had seen on the faces of his friends, followed by pain and nothingness.

" It's not true," he muttered, collapsing to the floor and rocking slightly, tears of denial running down his cheeks, " I'm not dead. I can't be dead. No no no!"

" Yes yes yes," came a voice behind Harry, causing the boy to jump in surprise and spin around, a look of wariness on his face. When he saw who it was, though, the wariness was replaced by surprise and pain.

" Sirius?" he whispered, as if barely daring to believe his eyes.

" In the flesh, kiddo," the older man replied with a smile, " Well, sort of…"

His sentence was interrupted by Harry hurling himself at his godfather, wrapping his arms around his waist as tightly as he could. Sirius grinned and hugged him back. After several long minutes, the animagus pulled away and looked his godson in the eyes.

" Harry, you shouldn't be here, it's not your time."

" I know, Sirius, I know. It's not my fault. There was an attack on Diagon Alley, and I had to help!"

" What killed you?" the older man asked sadly.

" Falling rocks. One wall of Gringott's collapsed on me. The next thing I know, I'm here. Wherever here is…" he replied, looking at the mist in fear. Sirius, seeing how scared Harry was of the whole situation, pulled him into another hug.

" I'm so sorry, Sirius," Harry said eventually, fresh tears beginning to fall.

" What for?" Sirius asked, perplexed.

" For killing you!"

" You didn't kill me, Harry," he said in confusion, " Bellatrix did."

" It's my fault you were there! If I had practiced occlumency, and not looked in Snape's pensieve, and hadn't gone to the Department of Mysteries, you would be fine!"

" It was my time, Harry. Anyway, I'm happy here. It's not your fault, so don't blame yourself."

" How can you be happy here?" Harry asked in disbelief, " This has to be the most depressing place I've ever seen!"

Sirius began to chuckle, looking around at the bleak grey landscape. Harry looked at him strangely and sent him questioning looks.

" Oh, I don't live _here_, Harry. Merlin forbid, I'd go mad! No, this is the Land of Mist."

" I never would have guessed," his godson replied sarcastically, watching a small misty cyclone pass them by, " What an original name."

" Indeed it is. No, I live in the Land of the Dead."

" Where's that?" Harry asked, " And how do we get there?"

" We don't go there yet, Harry," Sirius told him, " First you need to make a choice."

" What sort of choice?" the boy queried.

" Whether you're coming or going, of course!"

Harry was confused. He didn't know what Sirius meant by coming or going. In fact, since seeing his godfather again, he didn't seem to have been given a single straight answer about what was going on. From what he could gather, he was in a sort of limbo. He wasn't living; therefore he wasn't on Earth, yet Sirius had mentioned living in the Land of the Dead.

" Sirius, I don't understand, just explain it to me! You're as bad as Dumbledore!"

Sirius chuckled and shook his head slightly. He had missed the youngest Potter.

" As I said before, Harry, it's before your time. You weren't supposed to die in that battle, as it leaves a very important prophecy unfulfilled."

" But the prophecy _is_ fulfilled!" Harry said in alarm, " I was killed, and Voldemort will live! There's nothing I can do about it!"

" No, that's not strictly true. The prophecy stated that you couldn't both live, one had to die, at the other's hands. From what you tell me, Voldemort didn't kill you, a wall did. Not the most noble way to go, but at least it's memorable…"

" Hey!" Harry yelled in indignation, but seeing the funny side he began to laugh. After all, who ever would have expected the Boy-Who-Lived to die by a collapsing wall?

" So what happens now?" Harry asked once he had regained his composure.

" As I said, you have a choice. You can come with me to the Land of the Dead, and see your parents, or you can go back for a short time and complete the task you set out to do."

Harry was astounded. He'd thought death meant death, and with the exception of ghosts, there was no coming back. Of course, there were stories of necromancers and zombies, but he had never thought it would come to that.

" But…I'm dead! If I went back, I'd be a ghost, and what good would I be? Anyway, why give me a second chance? Other people don't come back, do they?!"

" Well, no," Sirius conceded, " It's mainly because of the prophecy. You see, prophecies are very powerful things, and even wrongful death cannot stand in their way. Of course, in cases such as yours, you are given a choice of fulfilling the prophecy or passing on, but still the choice is there. Most people come here before moving on to the Realms of the Dead. Obviously, the Land of Mist is a limbo of sorts, where people are judged on their actions in life and sent to the appropriate realm."

" So let me get this straight," Harry said, trying to come to terms with what was going in on, " Because of the prophecy, I can go back to where I came from and finish Voldemort off, before passing on; or I can go straight to the Land of the Dead and leave the wizarding world to battle it out amongst themselves."

" In a nutshell, yes," Sirius replied.

Harry thought over his options for a few minutes. On the one hand, he could be away from the fighting and the pain, away from the Dursleys and Malfoy and Dumbledore's lies and manipulations. On the other hand, he could go somewhere he could find peace, and see his parents again for the first time in fifteen years. He could be with Sirius, and other family he had never known. He could go back to pain and despair, or go on to love and acceptance. The obvious choice seemed to be right in front of him, but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind wouldn't leave him. What about his friends? What about Ron and Hermione? What about Remus and the Weasleys, and all of the students at Hogwarts. He couldn't leave them to be killed. They deserved so much more.

" Will I be alive again?" he asked, " Will I be corporeal?"

" No," Sirius said with a sigh, " You'd be in spirit form, like a ghost."

" What about magic?" Harry asked, " If I'm incorporeal and don't have magic, what use would I be?"

" You have spirit magic, which is used differently to wizard magic. Normal ghosts can't perform spells, but you would be able to."

Harry nodded as Sirius spoke, taking in these new facts.

" I'll do it," he said eventually, " But only if I can see my parents first."

Sirius grinned and put one arm around Harry's shoulders.

" That's my boy! Well, follow me then. James and Lily are just _dying_ to see you again!"

That said, a huge portal appeared in front of them, and Sirius pulled them through.

As soon as they appeared on the other side of the portal, Harry had to blink his eyes against the bright light. When his vision finally cleared, he looked in awe at the scene set out before him. It was what he would imagine paradise would be like. As far as the eye could see an expanse of bright, sparkling green grass stretched out, with trees and cottages dotted here and there. A river of the deepest blue wound its way from one side to the other, with a lake stretching for several miles.

" Do you like it?" Sirius asked with a grin.

" It's amazing," Harry whispered, awed by the view in front of him.

" It _is_ pretty special," Sirius agreed, before leading the boy towards a nearby cottage. The building was made of stone bricks and had a thatched roof of the most spectacular gold. Flowers filled the garden, and ivy twisted up either side of the door.

" This place reminds me of their house in Godric's Hollow," Sirius commented as they opened the door and walked into the hallway. Before Harry could answer, his breath was taken away by the appearance of a woman in front of him. She was tall and willowy, with long, red hair and familiar, sparkling green eyes. She gasped when she laid eyes on the boy in front of her.

" Harry?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

" Mum?" he replied in disbelief. When she nodded slightly, he threw himself into her arms, sobbing loudly. She squeezed him back as tightly as she could, crying herself. Sirius stood behind the reunited mother and son, a large grin on his face. When a man appeared behind the cuddling pair, Sirius motioned him over.

" Well, Prongs, I hope you're not going to do the same," he said to the older Potter, who was just realising who his wife was embracing.

" Harry?" he gasped, and pulled the boy from his distraught mother and into his arms.

Once all three Potters calmed down, Lily led them into the living room and conjured a pot of tea with a single thought. The next half an hour was spent with Harry telling his parents everything that had happened to him since they had died. Sirius sat off to one side, watching the reunited family with fondness.

" So, have you decided what you're going to do?" Lily asked her son when he had finished his story. He had told them about the choice he was asked to make, and the prophecy.

" Yes. As much as I hate to leave, I can't let my friends die. They're all I've had for so long. They've risked their lives on my foolish adventures, and now I can't just let Voldemort hurt or kill them."

" It's your decision, son," James said after absorbing this new information, " And we'll support you all the way. You're acting like a true Gryffindor!"

Harry blushed at this comment from his father, before looking at Sirius.

" Padfoot, when do I have to go?" he asked, nervously.

" The sooner the better," Sirius replied, " The longer you stay here, the less you'll be willing to leave. Don't worry, though. The sooner you sort out Voldemort, the sooner you can return!"

That said, he stood and held out his hand. Reluctantly, Harry hugged his parents one last time and took his godfather's hand. With a flash of light, the pair found themselves back in the Land of Mist.

" Harry, good luck. I know you'll defeat the Great Bastard, I just hope it's soon. After all, you can't lose. You're already dead, he can't kill you again."

" I'm going to miss you, Sirius," Harry said with a sniff, hugging his godfather tightly.

" I'll miss you too, kiddo," Sirius replied, " You go and get him, Harry. You'll be back before you know it. Go and save your friends."

That said, Sirius placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and muttered a few words. The boy glowed an eerie purple before disappearing once more, leaving Sirius alone in the Land of Mist, a sad tear rolling down his cheek.


	4. Consequences of Choice

__

Chapter Four – Consequences of Choice

The next thing Harry was aware of was a sudden barrage of sights and sounds. All around him was chaos. People screaming, people running, people sending curses in all directions. Shocked, Harry realised he had arrived back in Diagon Alley, and from the looks of things, no time had elapsed. Sure enough, as he looked over towards Gringotts he could see Remus and Molly running over to the collapsed wall, stunning the Death Eaters at they went. As the black robed figures fell to the floor, what Harry was seeing seemed to slip into slow motion. Remus was frantically pulling away pieces of the collapsed wall, and Molly was holding back his frantic looking friends. Ginny and Hermione were sobbing loudly, and Ron was staring at the crushed body of his friend in shock and bewilderment. The whole incident obviously wasn't penetrating his mind.

Harry watched the unfolding events in numb disbelief. Never in a million years had he considered he would ever be watching his own death in painstaking slowness. The thing that surprised him the most, though, was Dumbledore. Seconds after the wall collapsed, the old headmaster had apparated in, sending curses in all directions. As the last of the Death Eaters fled the scene, the spirit boy watched as the elderly man turned to the scene of panic and immediately took in the situation. Harry, despite the grave situation, found himself amused at finally seeing the usually unflappable headmaster lose his composure. As Harry's body was carefully removed from the pile of rubble, covered from head to toe in cuts, bruises and blood, the head of the Order blanched and a tingle tear trickled down his cheek. Perhaps the most disturbing sight was the twinkle quickly fading from the sapphire blue eyes.

Harry didn't know what to do. He knew he was dead, the evidence was right in front of him, and anyway, Sirius had said so. However, his godfather had failed to mention how Harry was supposed to be defeating the Dark Lord if he didn't even have a body. Sure, he supposedly had the use of magic, but he didn't know how to channel it without a wand. Deciding that standing in the middle of the battle scene wouldn't get him anywhere, he moved over to the gathering of Weasleys and Order members, intent on notifying them of his existence.

Much to his dismay, Harry tried to place his hand on Hermione's shoulder and offer the distraught girl a little comfort when his hand went right through her. Looking at it in shock, he tried the motion again with the same results.

" Great," he muttered to himself, " I can't touch anything, and I can't perform magic. A fat lot of use I'm going to be!"

With a look of determination etched on his face, he moved in front of Arthur Weasley and waved at him, trying to get his attention. Nothing happened. Harry's frown deepened, and he tried it again with a different person. He kept going, with the same results, until he had been around the whole group. Nobody could see him.

" Bloody brilliant," he grumbled, " Should have stayed with my parents."

With nothing better to do, Harry started to wander around Diagon Alley to see what damage had been done to the magical shopping street. All around him he could hear the sound of people crying and moaning in pain. The Death Eaters hadn't been there long, but they had done a fair amount of damage. Several shops were reduced to piles of smoking rubble, including the cauldron shop and the stationary shop. Eyelops' Owl Emporium had lost its door and a good chunk of the front wall, leaving owls flying everywhere, with tiny feathered bodied scattered on the ground. The Magical Menagerie had also been hit, and an assortment of creatures was wandering the devastated street aimlessly. Several fwoopers had gotten loose, and were annoying the Aurors trying to sort out the injured and the dead. Flourish and Blott's appeared to be on fire, much to the owner's distress. Even the shop on the corner of Knockturn Alley hadn't been spared. The worst by far, though, was Gringotts. Aside from the gathered mourners around his body, Harry watched as goblins ran frantically here and there, shouting instructions to each other in gobbledygook.

Eventually, some semblance of order seemed to be instated. The Healers from St Mungo's had arrived and were tending to the injured. The Aurors and several Order members were sending the onlookers home as fast as they could, and several wizarding undertakers had arrived to remove the dead. Harry watched in amusement as one of them tried to take his body away. Moving closer, he tried to listen in to the conversation.

" Professor Dumbledore, I am a reputable funeral director! I can handle the body…"

" I don't believe you are understanding me," Dumbledore said, patently, " This is Harry Potter. The wizarding world has just lost its saviour, and you want to whisk away his body. I won't allow it."

" Professor, I understand we are talking about the Boy-Who-Lived, or didn't as the case may be, but Hogwarts is no place for a corpse!"

" Harry will be returning to Hogwarts with me, Mr. Wallace. I don't care about your reputation, or how well you will deal with the body. Harry is going to the only place he ever called home, and I will not be bothered by meddlesome little men who want to gain a name for themselves on the back of a dead celebrity," Dumbledore growled, losing his famous composure. Harry was surprised at this. His death must really have affected the old headmaster.

" I really must protest," Mr. Wallace continued.

" You can protest as much as you like," Dumbledore grated out, " You are _not_ taking him."

His piece said, the formidable wizard pointed his wand at a piece of the Gringotts wall and created an illegal portkey. Taking it in his hand, he grabbed the corpse around the wrist and disappeared from the scene. Harry watched the whole process indifferently. After all, he didn't need his body any more. It was simply an empty shell.

Harry actually didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't communicate with people, he was incorporeal, and couldn't perform magic. He didn't have anywhere to go, and he really wasn't sure what his next move should be. After wandering around in a daze for a while, he came to the conclusion that following Hermione back would be the best idea. After all, he wanted to end up at Hogwarts, but he had no way of getting there. He couldn't portkey, or apparate, nor could he floo there. Not having a body was beginning to be tiresome. He may be able to walk through walls and other interesting things, but it was hardly practical. Following any of the wizards, like the Weasleys, would be impossible. At least if he went with Hermione, he could get in her car and go on the Hogwarts Express with her.

Finding his female friend didn't take much effort. He simply looked for the shock of red hair that was the Weasley family, and found the brown haired muggleborn still wrapped in Molly's arms, crying her eyes out. Making his way over, he felt an ache where his heart used to be. He hated to see his friends so upset. Ron hadn't moved yet, and he still appeared to be in shock. Ginny had stopped crying, and now she was sitting on the steps of the bank, her arms wrapped around her knees and rocking backwards and forwards slightly. She was staring into space, a lost look on her face. Harry was sad to see this. Despite not knowing her very well, he was rather fond of the young red head.

Eventually, the Aurors made their way over to the group and asked if they minded leaving. After all, they needed to start on clearing the street and rebuilding the shops. One by one, the members of the Order Harry had been closest to drifted off, all with tears trailing down their faces. The Weasleys escorted Hermione back to the Leaky Cauldron and waited with her for her parents to arrive. Harry trailed after them, a little concerned when the brick wall closed behind the family with him on the other side.

" Better get this over with," he murmured, before closing his eyes and walking forward. As me moved, he felt the strangest sensation of being not quite whole before he emerged on the other side of the wall. Opening his eyes, he looked back at the solid structure, a grin spreading across his face.

" Cool," he said to himself with a grin, " Imagine the pranks I could do…"

As he made his way into the pub, his thoughts were filled with ideas for pranks on the Slytherins. After all, if he was invisible and could walk through walls, he could cause a lot of trouble without the risk of detention. All he had to do was figure out how to touch things…

When Hermione's parents finally arrived to pick her up, they were stunned to hear what had happened. When they heard the news of Harry's death, they both began to cry, hugging their daughter tightly between them. After speaking at length to the Weasleys, they led their daughter out of the pub. Unbeknownst to them, the spirit of the dead boy was still following them as they made their way through the busy streets of Muggle London. Looking around him at the people milling around, Harry found it hard to imagine that a battle had gone on right in the middle of them, and the Muggles had no idea about it.

The underground was a little tricky for Harry. He tried to stay with the Grangers as best he could, but when they changed lines he almost lost them. Fortunately he managed to jump through the side of the carriage as it pulled away from the tube station. Following the family to the car, he leapt into one of the back seats and waited for them to drive off.

The journey back to Oxfordshire was torturous. Harry could see that Hermione was upset, and the girl kept shaking violently. Harry was worried she was going into shock. The hardest thing, though, was knowing that he was so close, but could do nothing to comfort his friend. She was suffering a lot, and it was all his fault. Guilt filled him as he thought about his friends, and those he considered as close to him as family. Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus, Dumbledore. They were the people he was the closest to in the world, and they were all in pain because of him. He had jumped into the situation without thinking. He had become complacent, thinking he could win every battle without a scratch. He had learned that particular lesson the hard way. Now his friends were suffering for his stupidity. Looking at the shaking girl next to him, he was filled with a sudden sense of purpose. He may not know how to touch things, or use his magic, but he would learn. He knew it was possible; after all, Sirius told him he could do it. He would just have to learn how. It wouldn't be easy, but he had plenty of time. Time was the one thing he had an abundance of, and as he wouldn't need to sleep, he would have more hours than he did when he was alive.

With a new sense of determination, he rested his ghostly hand on his friend's back and rubbed gentle circles on it. Expecting it to have no effect, he was rather surprised when her sobbing seemed to slow and finally stop. With one final shudder of emotional pain, she leaned against the side of the car, exhaustion taking over as she slipped into a fitful slumber, her ghostly guardian watching over her as she slept.


	5. Back to Hogwarts

_Chapter Five – Back to Hogwarts_

Harry's last night in Hermione's house passed in a daze for the young ghost. As soon as the Granger family had reached their home, Hermione ran up the stairs and slammed the door of her room, collapsing on her bed and sobbing herself to sleep. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had had the dubious honour of entering the guest room and sorting through Harry's things. Of course, the boy himself wasn't happy about strange people rummaging through his personal belongings, but there was nothing he could do about it. After watching the pair pack up the now redundant trunk for a while, Harry drifted off through a wall and floated through the house aimlessly.

Later in the night, after unsuccessfully trying to shut his mind down in some sort of sleep, Harry was becoming frustrated. He now knew how insomniacs felt. Wandering aimlessly around the house was far from interesting, especially since he couldn't touch anything. Normally he would have tried to sleep through the night to at least alleviate the boredom, but unfortunately ghosts didn't sleep.

After what must have been his sixth pass through the kitchen, Harry threw himself into a chair and crossed his arms in resignation. There was nothing to do. He couldn't read a book, he couldn't watch television, and he couldn't listen to music or talk to anybody. As he thought about it more, he realised that maybe he should have just stayed with his parents and Sirius. Despite the intense urge he felt to help his friends, he knew that he was useless. He couldn't study and find a way to defeat Voldemort if he couldn't pick up books. He couldn't even wield the magic he supposedly had. He was useless.

In the early hours of the morning, Harry finally made a decision. If he couldn't touch anything, he would just have to learn. That's what he was there for after all. He would be going to Hogwarts later that day, and there he would find someone to help him. Normally he would go to Dumbledore, but this time the Headmaster wasn't an option because he wouldn't see or hear Harry. The same went for the other living occupants of the school. The ghosts, however….

Harry suddenly sat up from his slumped position in shocked realisation. He was going to Hogwarts in a few hours, and it was full of ghosts. Granted, they weren't the same type of ghost as he was, but they were more likely to be of help. They might be able to teach him how to become visible and communicate with the living. And Peeves could touch things….

Feeling a lot happier than he had earlier, Harry closed his eyes, a small smile on his face, and planned for the day to come.

Harry was brought from his contemplative state by the sounds of movement above him. A smile on his face, he realised that it was finally morning, and Hermione would be getting ready to go to school. Standing up, he drifted out of the kitchen and up to the guest bedroom, taking a seat on his trunk as he waited for the Granger family to get ready for the day and head down to breakfast. He thought the guest room was the safest place for him. After all, he didn't want to accidentally see one of them changing or showering.

When he heard them heading downstairs for breakfast, he floated through the ceiling and into the kitchen below. He still found the sensation of passing through things a little disturbing, but he was fast becoming used to it. As the Grangers took their seats at the table, Harry could see the effect his death had had on them. They all sported dark shadows under their eyes from a restless night's sleep. Hermione's mother looked pale and drawn, and her father seemed a little shaky. Hermione herself was a wreck. Her hair was unkempt and her clothes wrinkled. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted her glass of orange juice, and her face was pale and blotchy. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, showing she had been crying.

As Harry took in their appearances, especially that of his friend, he felt guilt twisting in his stomach. He had done this to the normally bright and smiling girl. He had hurt her so badly. If he didn't have a 'saving people thing', then he would still be alive now, and his friend wouldn't be suffering. It was all his fault. As usual.

By the end of breakfast, Harry was felling rather depressed. He became lost in thought for a while, almost missing the Grangers leaving the house for the station. With a start, he leapt up and followed Mr. Granger out of the house and jumped into the car next to Hermione.

The ride to King's Cross was silent. Harry spent the time trying to make contact with his friend. As silent tears began to trail down her cheeks, he rested one transparent hand on her leg and the other one her head, stroking her hair gently as he whispered comforting words in her ear. She didn't seem to know he was there, but like the night before she calmed slightly. Harry knew that he was far from full communication, but it was a start at least.

King's Cross station was packed as it was every September 1st. Wizards and Muggles alike were milling around with trolleys full of bags, boxes and trunks. In the vicinity of Platform 9¾ there were a large number of trolleys sporting Hogwarts school supplies, cats, toads, and owls. The noise was rather loud, especially when people stepped onto the hidden platform. As Harry reached the entrance into Platform 9¾ he became slightly nervous. Walls and floors were easy to pass through. Magical barriers, though, were another thing. As he walked through the barrier, he felt the strangest sensation. It was as if the wall was crackling with static electricity, and he felt the slightest hint of resistance as he passed through it.

" Strange," he muttered to himself when he reached the other side, before shaking his head and boarding the train.

Once on the train, he wandered around, watching the students bustle into their compartments and greet the friends they had not seen for several months. Many of the compartments he passed, though, had solemn looking people in them, some of which were crying.

" Seems like the news is out," he said to himself after passing the compartment containing a gloating Malfoy.

Finally, he reached the last compartment, and looking inside he saw Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna Lovegood. Luna, as usual, had a dreamy look on her face, and her nose in an upside down copy of the Quibbler. The other three were all talking quietly to each other. Ginny and Hermione looked as if they had been crying again, and even Ron had bloodshot eyes. Harry made his way inside and sat down in one of the spare seats, listening intently to his friends' conversation.

" Did you see the Daily Prophet this morning?" Ron was saying, " There was a ten page article about Harry. It was awful, actually."

" What did it say?" Hermione asked, " I never renewed my subscription after fourth year."

" Well, the whole of the front page was the news of Harry's…death," he told her with a slight sob, " It said about the Death Eater attack and the wall collapsing. Then the next three pages were about DE attacks in general, followed by a summary of Harry's life, and all his Hogwarts adventures. Then we had a page and a half of commiserations and well wishers at the Prophet leaving messages."

" That's awful!" Hermione gasped, " How are the rest of your family taking it?"

" Mum's the worst," Ginny said, " She's upset all the time. Any little thing will set her off, and she just breaks down and cries. Dad's holding it together for her sake, but we can see he's just as upset as she is. The twins are unhappy as well. I've never seen them so somber."

" It's to be expected, though," the bushy haired girl said, " I mean, Harry was such a big part of our lives. We took for granted the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived-Through-Everything. None of us ever expected him to die. He always seemed so infallible."

" It's not like he's gone," Luna spoke up, surprising the others, who had forgotten she was there.

" What do you mean?" Ginny asked the odd girl.

" He's still here. He hasn't finished his task," she said in her dreamy voice, before turning her attention back to the magazine she was reading.

Harry was rather shocked at the younger girl's words. It was as if she knew he was here, and why. Thinking it over, he realised that he wasn't actually that surprised. Luna had always been a mystery, believing in things that any normal person would laugh at. Maybe they had all underestimated her. Taking the initiative, he leaned forward in his seat and rested his ghostly hand on her arm.

" Luna? Can you hear me?"

She didn't answer him, but at the contact he saw a shiver pass through her body, as if something cold had touched her. Before he could investigate further, though, the door to the compartment was roughly pulled open, startling all of the occupants.

" Well, well, well, if it isn't the Mudblood and Weasel. Oh, and not forgetting the Weaslet and Loony Lovegood," came a sneering voice from the door.

" What do you want, Malfoy?" Ginny sneered.

" Wow, the Weaslet has spunk. Just came to see how the Golden Trio is doing now that Potter got himself killed. Not that it's a great loss…"

" Shut up Malfoy," Hermione said coldly, while restraining Ron, who had turned an interesting shade of burgundy, " You're not welcome here. Take your snide comments and leave us alone."

" Really, Granger, what sort of a threat is that? Anyway, you can threaten all you like, but with Pothead out of the way the Dark Lord will pick of Muggle lovers and Mudblood scum in no time, and guess what. You're top of the list!"

Harry was becoming angry. How dare Malfoy gloat when his friends were in pain? It was sick, and he wouldn't stand for it. As the irritating blond continued to spout his insults, the anger was building in Harry and he felt a strange power gathering in his palms. Suddenly, it was too much for him to hold in and with a shoving motion of his hands, there was a huge flash of lavender light and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were blasted out of the door by a shockwave of energy. The ghost boy's anger drained away as he joined his friends in looking at the scene in utter confusion.

" W-what was that?" Ginny asked, frightened.

" I don't know," Hermione said, " It came out of nowhere."

" It was purple!" Ron gasped, amazed, " No magic I know of is purple."

" Purple is the colour of soul magic," Hermione whispered, for once not having a full explanation for what was going on. The group lapsed into silence, Ginny pulling the door to their compartment shut on the three unconscious Slytherins.

In the corner, Harry was having a small panic attack. He didn't know how he had done it. One minute he had been full of rage at the Prince of Slytherin, the next minute there had been a flash of light and they had been blasted backwards. He knew he had been responsible, and he was still a little awed at the power he had shown, but because he didn't know how he had done it, he couldn't replicate the effect. Harry spent the rest of the journey thinking over the incident and trying to find a way to control his power.


	6. Learning

_Chapter Six – Learning_

When the train finally trundled into the station at Hogsmeade, Harry was aroused from his contemplation by the movement of the others in the compartment. For most of the journey he had been mulling over the possibility of him actually being able to cast magic of some form. He knew the purple light had come from him, as the others had all been rather surprised by its appearance. Hermione said it was soul magic, which would fit with his current situation well. After all, he didn't have a body, or a wand, so any magic he did would come straight from his soul. The idea was complicated, and he was sure that if he had still been alive, just thinking about it would have given him a headache. As it was, he had decided to disregard the 'what' and go straight on to the 'how'. The only thing he knew that was concrete was that Malfoy and his cronies had been insulting his friends. The next thing he knew, they were flying through the air.

" But what came before that?" he muttered to himself, a slight frown marring his forehead. Eventually, as the train was nearing its destination, he had finally realised what he had been missing.

" I was angry!" he exclaimed, still a little disconcerted when the others in the compartment didn't react to his outburst, " I was mad at Malfoy, and then the magic came. Emotion, that has to be the key…"

By the time the train had arrived and the others were getting ready to leave, Harry had begun forming a plan of action. The first thing he would do when he got up to the school would be to speak to one of the ghosts. He was sure that, in his current state, they should be able to see him. After that, he would work on his magic, and learning as much as he could about defeating Voldemort. He would never be able to rest in peace with his parents and Sirius as long as his friends in the realm of the living were still in danger. It just wasn't an option. They had been his family for so long, he owed it to them for all the times they had risked their lives to help him.

The trip up to the castle was much as it was the year before. Harry dropped behind his friends as Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Luna piled into one of the thestral drawn carriages. Before following them, the young ghost made his way over to one of the magnificent creatures. Reaching a hand out, not expecting anything to happen, he was rather alarmed when the beast reared up, and let out an almightily scream. Stepping back quickly, Harry watched in amazement as the thestral stomped around frantically, its eyes wild. Before long, Hagrid came running over and grabbed the reins, whispering comforting words to the distressed animal and trying to calm it down. After a while it relaxed enough to be left alone, although it was still shifting uneasily on the spot. Harry, stunned, moved over to the door of the carriage and joined his friends, who had been hanging out of the windows watching the show. Unlike the year before, they had been able to see what was going on. Since Harry's death, they had been able to see the creatures themselves. As he took a seat, Harry tuned into their conversation.

" I wonder what spooked the thestral," Hermione was saying, " I've never seen one acting so erratically before."

" I've never seen one before, period," Ron grumbled.

" Ron…" his sister cautioned, reminding him not to bring up such a sensitive topic. An uncomfortable silence settled in the carriage, and Harry began to feel awkward, even though he knew they couldn't see him.

The Great Hall was just as hectic as it was every year, with excited students meeting up with friends and housemates, swapping stories and catching up on a summer's worth of gossip. The atmosphere was slightly different this year, though. Through the air of excitement a tinge of sadness coloured the students' moods. Normally, the Hall would be abuzz with the happiness of its inhabitants, but the events of the day before had seeped into the minds of everyone. For most, they had only found out that morning what had happened to their Saviour. The absence of the Boy-Who-Lived was like a gaping hole, and while people tried to make the best of it, covering their grief with false joy, they were failing. Harry looked at the students from his seat at the end of the Gryffindor table and was shocked at the response of the school. Even the Slytherins seemed to have been affected by his passing. Sure, they were still arrogant and stuck up, but the table as a whole still seemed a little off. Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something wasn't right. Malfoy, though, as expected, was in full gloating mode. After listening to him brag about how his acquaintances had contributed to the downfall of the Boy-Who-Lived for a few minutes, Harry tuned him out and turned to the rest of the students. It was amazing how fickle people could be, he thought, taking the general mood. In his second year he had been effectively declared public enemy number one when his ability to speak parseltongue had come to light. Much the same could be said for his fourth year, when his name had been drawn from the Goblet of Fire. Yet, here they were, mourning his death. Rather than being flattered, Harry felt a twinge of irritation with these people. These weren't the ones he was here to save. That right was reserved for his true friends, the one who stuck by him through thick and thin.

After the Sorting, Harry's thoughts were dragged from their contemplation of the students by Dumbledore, who had stood up and was calling for silence. Since Harry had seen him the day before, the elderly wizard seemed to have aged several decades. For the first time, the ghostly boy could see him as the frail old man he was, rather than the confident and imposing figure that was Albus Dumbledore. The day before, he had looked shocked, saddened, and angry, but never this defeated. As the headmaster cleared his throat, Harry briefly wondered what had happened to his corpse.

" Welcome, everyone, to a new year at Hogwarts. As most, if not all of you may know, in a Death Eater attack yesterday, Harry Potter was killed. In light of the events of yesterday, classes shall be cancelled for the rest of the week."

Scattered cheering broke out across the Slytherin table, but they were soon silenced by an intense glare from the headmaster.

" As I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," he said, sending another glare at the Slytherins, " Classes will be cancelled until the end of the week, at which time a memorial service will take place here in the Great Hall. You are all welcome to attend, but it is not compulsory. All of you, except the first years, knew Harry to some extent, and I hope you will all make the effort to join me here in saying goodbye to a truly remarkable boy."

At that, Dumbledore sat down again without any of his usual quirky phrases or notices. Harry could see that the man was taking his death hard. Professor McGonagall, seeing that her superior wasn't intending to say anything else, stood up herself and gave the start of term notices, and conducted the students in singing the school song. When they were finished, the food appeared on the tables and everyone began to sample the feast. Harry looked at the delicious food wistfully, wishing he could try even just a small part of it. These thoughts brought to mind Nearly Headless Nick's death day party in his second year. A bitter smile graced his features as he recalled the ghosts floating through the plates of rancid food in a vain effort at tasting again. With a start, he suddenly realised the direction his thoughts had taken him. Nearly Headless Nick. Looking around the Hall, Harry got his eye on the Hogwarts ghosts, who were just emerging from the walls and scaring the first years. Scanning the swarm of transparent bodies, he identified the form of the Gryffindor ghost and monitored his progress as he made his way towards his house table. As the partially decapitated ghost passed near to where Harry was sitting, he suddenly stopped in mid air and turned disbelieving eyes towards the young spirit boy.

" Harry Potter?" he mouthed incredulously. Harry grinned back at him, glad that at least Nick could see him, and nodded. The older ghost sent him a distinct 'we'll talk later' look, and headed off to talk to the first years. Harry sat back comfortably in his seat and listened to the conversations around him, relieved that at least he wasn't completely alone anymore.

" What on earth are you doing here, young Potter?" Nick asked as the pair floated out of the Hall together after the feast.

" It's a bit of a funny story, actually, Nick," he said, sheepishly.

" I always liked a good laugh," the elder spirit remarked as they reached the Room of Requirement. Harry had suggested they come here, as he did not want to deal with Nick being caught talking to himself in a hallway.

" It's rather long as well…"

" I have time."

Harry didn't know where to start, so he decided the beginning was as good a place as any. He explained about going to stay with Hermione, the trip to Diagon Alley, and his meeting with his parents and Sirius. Nick remained silent throughout the explanation, right up until the point where Harry explained about the choice.

" That's impossible!" the knight exclaimed, " There is no coming back from the place beyond, nor is there any passing from this world into that once the choice is made. This is unheard of…"

" Not unheard of," Harry said patiently, " Just uncommon."

" Well, if this is so, then you have a lot of work ahead of you, Harry," Nick said distractedly, still mulling over the new information he had been given. In all of his centuries of haunting Hogwarts, he had never seen or heard of anything like this before.

" I know, Nick, and I was hoping you could help me with that."

" I don't know how I can," he replied, " If what you tell me is true, then you have the ability to do magic. No ghost that I know of can do that, so the question, to my knowledge, is unprecedented. I can't help you there."

" What about touching things?" Harry asked. It was something he had been wondering about since the day before. He was sure that if he could just concentrate enough, he would be able to move things around.

" You'd best ask Peeves about that, I'm afraid," Nick told him, " I myself am not a poltergeist, and couldn't touch anything if I wanted to."

" Peeves?" Harry asked, incredulously, " I can't ask Peeves! He'd never take me seriously!"

" Well, I'm afraid that's a bridge you'll have to cross when you come to it. As for your problem of needing to learn things, I suggest until you figure out how to read books you follow your classmates to your lessons."

" Classes?!" Harry exclaimed, " I can't go to classes! I'll never be able to remember everything! I can't take notes!"

" You won't need to," Nick explained, " Ghosts are cursed with a perfect memory."

" What do you mean?" the Boy-Who-Died asked.

" Exactly what I said. Ghosts, at least normal ghosts, are cursed with a perfect memory."

" How is that possible?"

" We don't have bodies any more. While we are not blessed with the practicality of having a physical form, we are also not constrained by the realm of physical restrictions. We are free from the limitations of the human brain, and therefore can retain any information we absorb. The human brain is a complex organ, but to keep functioning it discards a lot of information. Humans forget things. We have no need to do this, as we have no brains. It is both a blessing and a curse. Do you understand how frustrating it is to be able to remember complex incantations and rituals, only to be unable to perform them?"

" It must be hard," Harry agreed, already formulating a plan, " So, you're telling me that I need to go to classes to learn how to defeat Voldemort?"

" Obviously, you will need to do your own research, but until such time as you can read books, you may as well gain some practical knowledge of the basics, from which to build. I suggest you don't bother with subjects that will be of little help. After all, what use is Divination, Muggle Studies or History of Magic when confronting a Dark Lord?"

Nick had a point. Thinking it through carefully, Harry realised that some of the other subjects could be discarded as well. In the time when his own year was having these classes, he would go to the seventh year classes instead and learn as much as he could. A sudden thought struck him, and he gave the other ghost a contemplative look.

" Nick, you can see and hear me, right?"

" Of course, young Potter," the other man said with a confused look on his face.

" What about the other ghosts? I'm assuming they can see me as well."

" I would expect so," Nick agreed, not seeing where the younger man was going with this.

" Then why can't the living see me? I mean, they can see you and the other ghosts, but why not me?"

Nicholas thought about it for a few minutes before shaking his head, at a loss.

" I have no idea, it may have something to do with the fact that you passed on, and didn't choose to remain here. You are here, in a sense, but not as I am. I stayed in the world of the living by choice. You chose to pass on. You may be here now, but this is not where you belong. They may not be able to see or hear you because the world of the dead and the world of the living do not cross. A part of you is still there, and always will if you ever hope to go back."

Harry nodded at the wiser man's words, taking in what he had said. He wasn't sure he fully understood Nick's logic, but it was apparently the best he was going to get. Taking a deep, yet needless, breath, he asked what he had been meaning to say since he arrived in the Great Hall.

" Nick, will you talk to Dumbledore for me? And my friends? You know, just to let them know I'm here."

" I don't think that would be a good idea, Harry."

" Why not?" he answered, angry, " They're in pain, because of me! Because of my stupidity and my arrogance in believing I was infallible! They deserve to know I'm here, and alright."

" Harry, no," Nick told him in no uncertain terms, " You say your friends are in pain now? Dumbledore included? How do you think they would feel if I was to tell them that the only comfort they can take in the situation, that you are with your parents, is a lie? They will be devastated, and feel guilty that you have been kept away from those you love because of a sense of duty to save them. You may think you are comforting them, but I am telling you it will cause them more pain than comfort. Do you really want that?"

Harry thought about what he had said, and realised that he was right. The only thing keeping his friends together was the thought that he was happy and in a better place, with his parents and Sirius. If they knew he wasn't there with them, because he had come back to save them, they would never forgive themselves. It was for the best. With a sense of disappointment, but also a newfound determination, Harry thanked Nick for his help and headed out of the Room of Requirement. After all, he had a poltergeist to track down.


End file.
